


Strength

by Oliver__Niko



Series: FE3H Wank Week [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: As it's Felix, Crushes, Drabble, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Power Kink, Public Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25668694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: Sylvain has overpowered Felix in training, who is utterly turned on by it.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: FE3H Wank Week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861228
Comments: 24
Kudos: 110
Collections: Wank Week 2020





	Strength

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, Wank Week! A strangely wholesome fandom week which ended up becoming my priority over a ship week.
> 
> For day 2's prompts, 'public places' and 'fantasising.' Enjoy!

Damn it all. Damn the Goddess, damn Felix’s brain, and damn Sylvain most of all.

How dare he slack off training, only to remove his shirt for whatever reason during their fight, showing he’s still well built regardless? How _dare_ he actually win against Felix? That somehow, he has pushed Felix into a wall with a training lance by his neck with the words, “Looks like I win.”

Felix raises his head, swallowing, unable to tear his gaze away from the eyes staring at him. His face burns with what he fools himself is anger.

Sylvain only makes it worse. He appears almost curious along with his satisfaction. “Heh. Losing is a good look on you, Felix.”

Even though Sylvain backs away from Felix, pulling the lance from his neck, the nervousness and thrill remains with him. There’s a sense of loss as well, from stepping away from the wall. It confuses him. Makes him feel vulnerable, even, enough to cross his arms as a way to close himself off.

“Cat got your tongue? You really don’t like losing, do you?”

Apparently, it’s the opposite. “That was mere luck,” says Felix. “Don’t expect it to happen every time.”

“Oh, I definitely wouldn’t.” Sylvain holds the spear across the back of his shoulders, tapping it against them. “But there’s a charm in overpowering you, apparently. All good with me.”

Shit. _Shit._ So that is the reason he feels so heated. The idea of Sylvain overpowering him. Is that normal? Should he feel this way? Whether he should or not, there’s no denying the heat rushing between his legs.

Felix turns, exactly as Sylvain says, “You okay, Felix? Your face is a bit red.”

“It’s just exertion,” Felix answers. “I’m going to train alone for a while. Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Ah, no problem. Turns out that it can be fun to try, sometimes.” Out of the corner of Felix’s eye, he can see Sylvain grin as he begins to walk away, giving Felix a wave.

The latter pretends to be observing the training weapons available. The moment Sylvain is gone, Felix’s eyes scan the training grounds to ensure no one is watching him. He hurries away towards the pillars in the distance.

He leans his head back against one, exhaling a deep breath. Goddess. _Why_ can he not get this image out of his head? All of his senses? Hearing Sylvain’s breaths, seeing that grin from above him, the brick against his back and weapon on his skin … Everything on fire, as he could only stare. Looking back, he was definitely blushing for some time, although hopefully Sylvain believed his lie on it merely being from exercise.

He cannot say why it turned him on so much. Simply the display of strength, it’s—it’s not leaving his mind, not even now as his hands are reaching for the waistband of his trousers, about to do something he is utterly ashamed of.

Jacking off in public? That is Sylvain’s style, not _Felix’s,_ and yet here the latter is. Finding a pillar to hide behind and relieve himself, simply because he cannot walk through the monastery with an erection.

He hopes and prays Sylvain hasn’t noticed it.

He’d love to cast aside that stupid, handsome face as he trails a hand down his erection, but that’s the exact thought which is not going to leave him. Teeth bite at his lip as he begins to work a pace on himself. He’s sloppy. It’s not as though he does this often, never mind with the added nerves of doing this in public. But _Goddess,_ he doesn’t care, he just needs this over with.

And doing so as quickly as possible means allowing his mind to focus on what it needs to. The thoughts are simple at first. Simply thinking back to the incident which brought him to this in the first place. Sylvain’s smirk, those muscles.

But as his hand increases its pace, more images come to mind—that which force his other hand to cover his mouth to silence himself. Those images are filled with Sylvain doing more with that damn strength of his. Throwing Felix against a wall, pinning his wrists against it as those lips find his neck, and one of those _stupidly_ large hands rubbing at Felix’s arousal rather than Felix doing it himself, as he is in this moment.

He’s trying to not allow his mind to wander any further. It turns out to be impossible. Fantasising about sex is something which Felix has never done much, at all. It’s simply not something he needs, barely something he craves. He’s wondered at times if he is simply not capable of attraction. But clearly, that is not the case. To at least some degree, he is.

He hears himself moan in his mind. Legs wrapping around Sylvain’s hips, forcing him closer. Hands still above his head against the brick, trapped beneath a single hand— _why_ have Sylvain’s hands always been so much larger? His other is on Felix’s hip. Gripping tightly as Sylvain thrusts into him, murmured words in his ear.

“ _You’re taking me so well, Fe—”_

“Sh-shit,” Felix whimpers beneath the hand he has over his mouth. His eyes squeeze shut, pressing down harder to stifle the cry escaping him when he finally climaxes into his hand. It’s possibly the largest load he has ever managed to release, all because his mind has had actual images to work with.

Inhale, exhale. He doesn’t dare move until he knows his breathing is more regulated. And when he does so, he’s muttering curses under his breath whilst whipping a handkerchief out of his pocket, better than nothing in wiping away the mess on his hand.

He leans back against the pillar again, comprehending both what he has done and what brought him here in the first place. He always strives for strength, to never allow himself to be beaten in a fight, and yet here he is. Aroused with trembling legs over the imagery of an opposite—of crumbling beneath Sylvain’s strength instead.

Shit. He really has gotten himself into trouble.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm going to be creating one drawing or drabble for each day. If you'd like to see the art side too, feel free to find me on Twitter @nikobynight.


End file.
